Double Digits
by IamErik771
Summary: The Doctor, Amy, and Rory find themselves face-to-face with the Doctor's previous incarnation. But all may not be as it appears! Possibly AU, and may have other characters popping in.
1. Two Doctors, Three Companions

Disclaimer: This story takes place somewhere between the 5th and 6th series of the New "Doctor Who." All major characters and alien species are owned by the BBC and by their respective creators/actors unless otherwise stated.

Also, I have made some edits to the first 2 chapters just now (October 2014) since they were originally published in 2011. Nothing too major, though. In any case, please enjoy!

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><p><strong>Double Digits<strong>

**Chapter I: Two Doctors, Three Companions**

"Well, now, that was fun," said the Doctor as he exited his bright blue TARDIS. He seemed remarkably chipper for someone who, barely an hour previously, hadn't existed in any form other than a glimmer in the memory of the ginger-haired Scottish girl who followed him out of the box. Then again, he _had_ just been at the girl's wedding; it was probably impossible not to be cheerful after dancing around in a totally crazy manner, as he had. He had changed out of his tuxedo into an outfit he found far more appropriate and stylish – a grey tweed jacket, matching slacks, and of course, the ever-essential crimson bow tie.

"Where are we?" asked Amy Pond as she emerged from the TARDIS. She was still wearing her wedding gown, but had taken off her veil. Her new husband Rory Williams followed her out, dressed in his tuxedo and glancing around at the darkened city streets. It was clearly nighttime in London, but the Scottish girl's real question was meant to be more along the lines of _when_ they were.

"London, 2009. Right around Oxford Circus. Not fair; I wanted to go someplace awesome!" yelled the Doctor, though the excited grin on his face betrayed his curiosity. The TARDIS, in all his centuries with it, had never taken him anywhere boring, after all. That wasn't always a good thing, of course; he couldn't even remember the last time he'd had a trip where he didn't spend at least half of it battling or running from some interstellar menace. Still, with any luck, they'd be able to enjoy a few minutes of relaxation before having to run for their lives.

"What's that?" asked Rory, looking up. The Doctor and Amy followed his gaze to see an amazing sight: a Routemaster double-decker bus with the upper level apparently smashed in. That in itself was remarkable enough, but was a detail that almost eluded the three onlookers due to the fact that the bus was _flying._

"Well, now, wasn't expecting to see that again," muttered the Doctor as the bus turned around in midair and prepared to descend.

"What . . . ? How is a Routemaster flying?" Amy asked, bewildered.

"'Cos I made it fly." The Doctor grinned slightly, proud that his handiwork had impressed his companions even when they hadn't been there to see him do it.

"And dare I ask why the top level's all smashed?" questioned Rory.

"Bit of trouble with a wormhole. Nothing major – passengers survived. Driver, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky," added the Doctor, remembering the poor fool who tried to run back to Earth after seeing that they were on an alien planet. Obviously, a person thinking clearly wouldn't attempt to run through a wormhole without adequate protection. Especially after seeing that the wormhole could pulverise a _double-decker bus._

The bus touched down and two figures stepped out: one who the Doctor expected, and the other who he most certainly did not. After all, he did play a part in this very event not long ago, by his reckoning. Then again, he was anywhere from 700 to several thousand years old. (Even he couldn't remember his own age; and besides, would he measure his age in Galifreyan years or Earth years?) In any case, because of how long he had lived, all the time he had spent traveling with human companions didn't feel very long to him at all; the most joyous moments always fly by the fastest, after all. He had to admit, though, that the few hours he'd spent in the Pandorica felt like an eternity – even worse than the year he'd endured (and later erased) as a captive of the Master. At least the Master played decent music; in the Pandorica, all the Doctor had had were his own despairing thoughts.

The first person to exit the bus wore a stylish black catsuit and boots to go with her long, dark hair; the Doctor recognised her immediately as Lady Christina de Souza, the treasure thief who'd helped him to get the bus back to Earth. Though he'd turned down her request to be his companion at the time because she stole treasures for thrills, the Doctor now had to admit that he had just been fishing for reasons not to take anyone on as a companion; after all, hadn't he "borrowed" the TARDIS for similar reasons?

The second, much less expected figure stepped out of the bus. "And I helped him transcribe his play. Didn't ask for coauthor credit, though; that might've been a bit much," said the man in a pinstriped brown suit, speaking in an Estuary English accent as he finished a sentence. "By the way, I'm told the fellow who played Hamlet last year looked a lot like me. Funny how that happens!"

The Doctor couldn't believe his eyes; standing right before him was . . . well, _him!_ His previous incarnation, to be more precise, but still . . . why would the TARDIS have brought him here and risked an irreparable time paradox? And more importantly, at least to the present (or, more accurately, future) Doctor . . . _did his hair really look like that back then?_

Before the Doctor could say anything to his companions, though, his previous incarnation spotted him. It was clear from his gaze that he recognized his future self to some extent – at the very least, he could tell that they were both Time Lords. "Well, hello!" called the past (or present) Doctor. _This is getting confusing,_ thought the present-or-future Doctor, whose brain seemed to be attempting to transcribe the encounter. Sometimes he couldn't tell why it was transcribing his life that way – it was almost as if he was preparing to write up his adventures and post them on the Internet or something.

"Who's that, then?" asked Amy, eyeing the newcomers to the scene (particularly the man in the pinstripes) curiously.

"Well, the lady is a friend I made a while back . . . Lady Christina de Souza." The woman in black gave a slight bow and flashed a mischievous smile at the new (to her) incarnation of the Doctor.

Amy noticed and giggled. "Doctor, you naughty-"

"And the gentleman," continued the present-or-future Doctor in a somewhat louder tone, interrupting her, "is me. Before I looked like I do now, obviously, but yeah."

The redheaded girl and her husband blinked, and she took a few seconds to respond. "But you look younger than he does!" Amy exclaimed after a moment of stunned silence.

"So . . . you can change your face?" asked Rory.

The present-or-future Doctor put a hand to his temple. "Okay. Long story short, if I die, I can regenerate. It's happened a fair few times now. New face, new personality . . ."

"New fashion sense?" asked Amy curiously, appraising the past-or-present Doctor's outfit. This chap certainly wasn't raggedy, though she recognized some articles of clothing as being less beat-up versions of what she had first seen _her_ Doctor wearing.

"Is that a _bow tie?"_ The past-or-present Doctor raised an eyebrow at his future self's choice of attire.

Amy laughed. "There was one time he decided to wear a fez, as well!"

"Oh no," the Doctor in the brown jacket snickered. "That really gives me confidence for the future!"

"Hey!" exclaimed the Doctor who had a taste for clothes that Amy seemed to find strange. "Bow ties and fezzes are _cool,_ all right? When you're me, you'll learn," he said to his past self.

"Well, I suppose I shouldn't talk," replied the Doctor who was (in Amy's opinion) more stylishly dressed. "After all, I . . . well, _we_ . . . used to wear a stick of celery on my jacket, didn't we? And before that, the scarf . . . those were the days, weren't they?"

Rory interrupted before the two Doctors could continue. "All right, you two, stop talking to yourself! So then . . . what regenerations are you?"

"I'm number ten," the past-or-present Doctor said, raising a hand.

"And I came right after, so I'm eleven," said the other, raising his hand in a similar manner but also wiggling his fingers to an absurd degree. _Ah, much better,_ he thought in response to having definite numbers to label the two Doctors by, as his mind was still acting as stenographer for their meeting.

Ten looked at his future self a bit sadly. "So . . . that means that before long, I'm gonna be you."

Eleven gave a solemn nod. "You got the warning about someone knocking four times, then?"

"Yeah."

"It'll be hard. But you don't have to worry. It turns out okay . . . just do what you know is right, and it all works out. I mean, being me isn't bad at all."

Ten noted the sincerity with which his future self spoke. "Thanks for that. It's what I needed to hear, I think. And I still get to have some good times before I go, right?"

"Oh yeah, of course! And afterward, as well – apparently, I'm brilliant at football. Even though we'd never played before, which is a little weird."

Ten turned to Eleven's companions. "And you've got a redheaded runaway bride of your own! Guess the impression Donna made on you – me – hasn't gone away quite yet." There was a hint of sadness edging back into his voice.

Amy mouthed the word "Donna?" while looking at Eleven curiously. She had asked the Doctor once before just how many previous companions he'd had and how many were attractive, young women, but he had refused to give her a straight answer.

Ten didn't seem to notice, however, and paused for a moment, his sorrow apparently gone just as fast as it had come. "Redheaded runaway bride . . . redheaded runaway bride . . . Wow, what a tongue-twister! And why is it that you – that's to say I – still don't get to be ginger, but your companions are?"

"Excuse me, um, Doctor Number Ten," Rory butted in. "But she's not a runaway – she and I married just before we came here!"

Ten stared at the newlywed nurse. "You know, you remind me a lot of a guy I knew named Mickey. Before he got awesome, that is."

Rory scowled. "Thanks for that."

"No, he was a nice lad. It's a compliment! Well, kind of." The Tenth Doctor shrugged, but after a moment, his eyes widened. "Hang on . . . Are you, or have you ever been, an Auton?"

Eleven rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, long story. Anyway! I think we'd better be off. Don't want to create an even bigger temporal paradox that'll destroy . . . wait a second." He glanced over at the bus. "I never landed here after the bit with the wormhole and all that."

"Of course not," said Ten matter-of-factly. "That was a week ago. Well, roughly a week. Time traveling and all, you know."

"No, that can't be right. I left here right after letting her go." He indicated the raven-haired burglar who was waiting by the bus, stealing long glances at each Doctor in turn. "Then I saved the poor bloke who accidentally insulted a Judoon officer – simple misunderstanding. And then I had a spot of trouble with some Cybermen who'd turned up at the first landing on Titan in 2042, then tea with Voltaire, couple of other things, then the whole thing on Mars . . . ooh, I shouldn't be telling you that, should I?"

"Don't mean to interrupt, Doctor . . . er, Doctors," Lady Christina interjected as she stepped away from the bus to face the two Time Lords. "Shouldn't bad things be happening to the space-time continuum or something if there are two of the same person from different times chatting with each other? At least, that's what you told me when we went to meet my mum." The meeting with Christina's mother had, in fact, taken place when she was twelve in the normal continuity, and so the Doctor – at least, _her_ Doctor – warned her not to interact with her younger self.

"She's right," replied Ten, putting on a pair of glasses for the sole purpose of looking more academic. "The fact that the universe _isn't_ tearing itself to shreds right now means that something's different."

"Like what? What do you mean?" asked Amy, staring at Ten in a way that made Eleven and Rory shoot irritated glances at both her and the object of her new curiosity.

Ten raised his eyebrows. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? Somewhere down the line, one of us ended up in an alternate universe – a different reality from where we belong."

Eleven took a step toward Ten, and the Doctors then took a look at each other's respective companions; Ten glanced at Amy and Rory while Eleven met Christina's eyes. Then, as if they'd planned to say it all along, the two Doctors yelled at each other in unison:

_"I'm_ the real Doctor! _You're_ the alternate!"

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><p>Author's Note: Stay tuned for the next chapter, in which all will be revealed . . . or not. Or perhaps some new mysteries may surface. Time will tell! In the meantime, please read and review.<p> 


	2. Not the Time Lord You Were Expecting

AN: Wow, it's been a while. Hi, all, and thanks for the reviews! Hopefully, I'll be able to maintain (or better yet, improve on) the quality. *crosses fingers*

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><p><strong>Double Digits<strong>

**Chapter II: Not the Time Lord You Were Expecting**

The two Doctors glared at each other, though their companions found it hard to tell whether the Time Lords were actually angry or just playfully acting annoyed.

"No, I'm the real Doctor!" Eleven shouted. "And I can prove it. Amy, how many fingers do I have?"

Amy blinked a couple of times, confused. "Ten, I guess. But what does that have to do with-"

"See?" interrupted Eleven, with the triumphant air of one who had undoubtedly won the argument.

Ten raised an eyebrow. "No, I don't get it either. Sorry."

Eleven grinned as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the universe. "Who else but the real Doctor could be that quirky and random?"

Rory and Christina looked as if they weren't sure whether to laugh, while Amy rolled her eyes. Ten walked over to the double-decker bus with the smashed upper level. He then reached in and pulled out a bright, red apple, which he tossed to Eleven.

"Um, bad idea, Doct- er, I mean, Number Ten," Amy muttered.

Eleven caught the apple, but promptly dropped it as if it were radioactive. He glared at the fruit and then his previous incarnation with disgust. "What're you trying to do, poison me?" asked the black-haired Time Lord.

"I like apples, so I figured you would as well," Eleven replied, shrugging. "Since you're the real Doctor and all."

"Okay," Eleven said, putting a hand to his forehead. "I'm sure you, my dear Number Ten, remember that each regeneration has different personality quirks. One of my most prominent ones is that I do **not** like apples." He turned to his companions, adopting a far more amiable tone. "Rory, Amy . . . You know that old phrase 'An apple a day keeps the doctor away?'"

"Yeah," Rory replied, still unsure of what any of this had to do with anything.

Eleven nodded. "I'm the Doctor that saying was made for."

Ten raised his eyebrows. "Seriously?"

"1724, when I was visiting King George," Eleven said matter-of-factly. "George the First, o'course. Had lunch with him, he served an apple tart for dessert, and I bolted right out the door."

Amy and Rory stared. "Hang on," the Scottish girl said, "I don't remember any of that."

"It was when I was taking the new TARDIS out for a spin, before I came back to pick you up."

Amy raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so _that's_ why you were late. Had to coin an age-old chestnut."

Eleven made a face. "Of course not! I can't stand chestnuts, either."

Lady Christina cleared her throat. "Well, anyway, Doctors and friends . . . I think it's about time that Number Ten and I went on our way."

"Of course," Eleven nodded. "Where'd you park the TARDIS, anyway?"

The leather-clad thief stared at the Eleventh Doctor as if he was insane (or, at least, more so than usual). "What do you mean? It's right here!" She indicated the bus behind them.

"Where, behind the bus?" asked Amy. "Or is it cloaked, or . . ."

"Of course not, silly girl!" chided Christina. "It _is_ the bus. As a companion of the future Doctor, I thought you'd know that."

"Hold on, now, that _can't_ be right," Rory said. "The TARDIS looks like a blue police box from the '60s."

"Well, yes, Ten left in the old police box TARDIS after that wormhole incident," Christina began. "But then, he turned up a couple hours later, saying his TARDIS had been destroyed, so he converted the bus into a new one."

Eleven blinked. "Wow, I'd never do that. When the TARDIS got destroyed – by you turning into me, no less," he added with a nod to Ten, "I just let it regenerate. Looks the same on the outside, but _so_ much sexier inside. I guess our personalities really are pretty different between universes."

Ten grinned and chuckled in what seemed like a rather sinister manner. "What are you laughing about?" asked Rory. Even though he didn't know the previous incarnation of the Doctor, a low and evil-sounding laugh like that seemed rather uncharacteristic of what he thought any version of the Doctor would do.

"You still don't get it, do you? Any of you?" Ten winked, and then pulled out a device from his jacket pocket. It looked somewhat like the Doctor's sonic screwdriver. Ten pressed a button on the handle that caused a number of extra, fiendish-looking tools to pop out of the sides, almost like a Swiss Army knife. One of the tools fired a beam of orange light at Eleven, Amy, Rory, and Christina, who found themselves unable to move; they could only speak, and watch.

Ten smirked, clearly pleased at what he had done, as the others could only watch helplessly. "To answer any questions you might've had . . . Yes, this is, for all intents and purposes, your Earth. I threw in that bit about alternate universes and such just for kicks. But soon, your Earth will be . . . _my_ Earth." His grin widened.

"What in the world are you talking about? Doctor - Number Ten!" shouted Christina, horrified at the all-too-sudden change in the Time Lord she thought she knew.

"It's true that I'm a Time Lord, and that I look like the tenth incarnation of our dear old Doctor here. What's more, I even share his telepathic signature, so Number Eleven can be forgiven for not recognizing me, though I must admit I'm a bit disappointed."

"So then you're-" began Eleven, his eyes widening. "But no, you can't be! I trapped you in the Time War! It's time-locked; no one can get out!"

The Time Lord who looked like the Tenth Doctor grinned. "Yes, old friend. You've obviously guessed it by now, but here's a final clue." He tapped his knuckles against the bus's door in what was, to Eleven, a horribly familiar four-beat rhythm. The Master, age-old nemesis of the Doctor, had returned.

"I do hope you've told your chums about me," the Master said, chuckling more mirthfully than the last time as the Routemaster-TARDIS's doors swung open, seemingly in response to his four knocks. "But in case you haven't . . . Hi," he brightly addressed Amy, Rory, and Christina. "I'm called the Master. Please use my name whenever you can; I'll really appreciate it. And your lovely Doctor and I go way, way back – farther than you can imagine."

The Master turned his attention back toward the Doctor. "I'm sure you're wondering why I look like your previous regeneration. Believe me, it wouldn't have been my first choice. There've been quite a few advantages, though; I got all your memories up until the time when the original version of me got sucked back into the Time War, and better yet, I can masquerade as you just like I did with your pretty little traveling buddy here." He grinned mischievously at Christina, who attempted to struggle free without success.

The Master put a finger to his chin. "Now that I've got you all here, what to do next? Go back and play with some of your other companions, maybe. Or bring any of your old enemies to Earth to wipe out your precious humans and allow me to take over. Oh, how to choose?" He glanced again at the Doctor's companions. "Oh, don't look so sad! You'll have lots of time to catch up, and I've got all kinds of fun stories to tell! You'll be in the TARDIS-Bus with me, just so no one's lonely. I'll even buy chips for you all if you behave, and then you'll get to watch all the delightful games I've planned. And thanks to my new, multiform screwdriver, watching is all you'll get to do."

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><p>AN: How did the Master return? Why does he look like the Tenth Doctor? Why does he seem to like turning buses into TARDISes? Stay tuned for the next chapter... but in the meantime, please review!<p> 


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